


Double-Blind

by Poppelganger



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game), Touhou Project
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Gen, Horror, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Canon, Psychological Torture, Sisters, Spoilers, Surreal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2544794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poppelganger/pseuds/Poppelganger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We," Dr. Jiminez says, though he doesn't really mean both of them, "will change the world with this project."</p>
<p>"At what cost?" she tries to ask him, but he's too far gone to hear her.</p>
<p>The Evil Within/Touhou Project crossover set before the beginning of the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guys.  
> Someone.  
> Please tell me where I am.  
> And how I got here.
> 
> (So I'm still alive, and I'm still on hiatus. But I've been back-seat gaming with a friend who bought TEW and it's Halloween and this idea wouldn't leave me alone, so here we are.
> 
> Prior knowledge of The Evil Within assumed. Prior knowledge of Touhou Project completely optional.)

_(Eyes Open)_

 

"Waves."

Satori straightens her shoulders a bit, sore from sitting in the same position in the office’s little, plastic chairs for hours on end.  Dr. Jiminez holds another card up, the back facing her.

"Star."

It's Friday.  Koishi should be home from school soon, she thinks.  She's not concerned; she went to the grocery store yesterday and picked up enough for another week or so.  Neither of them eat much anymore, anyway.  Saves money, saves time.  Satori doesn't like being seen in public.

"Another star."

Dr. Jiminez is a lanky man with a receding hairline and a practiced smile, the kind one wears for public relations and talking to children when one doesn't mean a word they say.  But he only smiles around other doctors and researchers and his patients, not around her; he, of all people, knows better than to try to hide anything from her.

"Circle."

She's not even looking at him anymore, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples to soothe an oncoming headache.  She didn't sleep much last night.

"Square.  Please.  Can we take a break?"

Dr. Jiminez pauses.  She feels a brief flare of annoyance, and then pity.  "Of course," he says, and stands from the table, "Would you like me to get you some water?"

"Please."

Satori watches him leave, watches the way his lab coat waves behind him as he walks.  They all look the same to her now.  She knows names from memories, knows the man was once a boy who threw a baseball through a window and lied about it, knows one of the nurses went shopping for clothes last week and had gone down a size.  Satori knows memories rather than faces and thoughts rather than feelings.  So really, she doesn't know any of these people.

Dr. Jiminez comes back with a glass of water and she only notices that he's set it down in front of her when her hesitation elicits a thought of, _here we go again_.

"Thank you," she says quickly, and he only nods, watching her watch him from over the cup.  He waits patiently for her to finish, already reshuffling the deck of cards.  She looks at him, looks at the cards, looks around at the white room they're in.

She reminds herself why she's doing this, who she's doing this for.

"Okay," she says, "I'm ready," and Dr. Jiminez almost smiles on reflex for finally getting his way but stops himself at the last second.

*

Dr. Jiminez claims it's extrasensory perception, and his colleagues just like to say it's mind-reading, but Satori likes to think it's less about deliberate thought and more about intention despite all evidence to the contrary.  Dr. Jiminez likes to pass her off to his colleagues for an afternoon session or two as a point of pride, his thoughts practically screaming, _too bad you didn't find her first!_ and Satori holds her tongue because she knows a confrontation wouldn't do her any good.

"You're simply fantastic," the man says with reverence as he walks with her to the hospital's entrance, "A few month's time, and I'll be able to publish our research."

She doesn't need to be a mind-reader to hear the word _my_ overlapping _our_.

"And after that, we can really get you started on the project.  The implications of an ability such as yours...it will revolutionize not only psychology, but every scientific field."

She nods along, pretending to be interested, pretending to care.  That's how she got involved in this mess in the first place--some eager upstart fresh out of med school with dreams of changing the world of mental health care, and that raw hope and genuine belief in their goal are what drew her in, what made her want to do the same.

She reminds herself of that moment of weakness whenever she feels a shred of regret for the apathy she cloaks herself in now.

"Do you need a ride home?" he offers, and she quietly declines, hoping her anxiety to get away from him doesn't show in her eyes.  "Satori," he says, not Miss or her last name or any of the respect he shows his colleagues, just a patronizing tone and only her first name, "I'll see you for our next appointment?"

She doesn't know why he phrases it as a question.  "Of course," she says hollowly and starts walking away from the frantic and loud, swirling thoughts, _Will she come back?  She has to come back.  She has to, if she doesn't, I'll, I'll, I'll call the police!  I'll have her committed, they'll never believe her, it'll be fine, the project is fine, my research is fine...._

She takes the subway and travels from the heart of Krimson City to its old slum apartments, opening the door and wrinkling her nose at the smell of must and mold, kicks off her shoes, and passes the living room for the kitchen, sitting at the table with her head in her hands.

"Sis?" comes the uncertain, high-pitched lilt of the reason she gets up in the morning, and she glances up to see Koishi's head peering around the corner.  Her hair is sticking up at odd angles, and Satori sighs a bit, knowing she went to school without brushing her hair again.  "You okay?"

"No," she says, "I have a headache."

"Oh."  Her younger sister looks at the floor, then comes around the corner, hands clasped behind her back with a small pout.  "So you don't want to play any games?"

"No."  The way Koishi deflates manages to reach Satori's heart, despite how deeply she's buried it for protection, and she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to relax.  "Not right now.  Give me an hour or so."

The light returns to Koishi's eyes and she nods eagerly, tiptoeing back into the living room with a big smile.  Satori hears her fall back onto the couch, hears the stuffing oozing out of it, and can't help but smile a little herself.  

*

Koishi is almost sixteen, so there's really no reason for her to wear her shirts inside-out or need help tying her shoes or have an easier time befriending people ten years younger than her own peers.  Satori blames their mother--Koishi has always been a little immature, and their mother only enabled her behavior, indulging her childish tantrums and doing everything for her.

She spoiled them both, Satori thinks fondly, and she knows she doesn't really blame her.

She blames their father, too, for being too distant, for taking vacations alone and having suspicious messages and photos sent to and from other women on his cellphone that his wife would later find and cry over.  She was too much of a wallflower to ever confront him about it, too kind to hate him.  

Satori doesn't think of herself as kind, but years later, she still doesn't have any strong feelings towards him, positive or negative.  He was just a person who happened to live under the same roof who came home late sometimes and slept on the couch, leaving in the morning before anybody else.  

If she has to be honest, though, Satori blames herself most of all, because now more than ever, Koishi has to grow and mature and learn to stand on her own two feet, and yet she can't bring herself to have the talks they need to have, can't bring herself to tell Koishi she won't tie her shoes anymore, won't brush her hair anymore, won't always be there, because she doesn't want Koishi to change.

She knows it's not fair, that she's only hurting them both, but Satori wants, desperately, for something to stay the same in their lives, so she pretends that everything is fine and that they're completely normal and that the two of them together can do anything.

"Uno!" Koishi cries excitedly as she gets down to her last card.  She likes the silence of their old, decrepit, probably unsafe for habitation apartment, because at times like these, there isn't a cacophony of unspoken thoughts and feelings, no screaming anxieties or mournful regrets.  There is only Satori and her sister and the blissful sound of nothing at all, broken only by Koishi's childish exclamations.

"I win again!"  

Satori smiles.  It's the sixth game in a row and she hasn't won once.  She likes to tell herself that her sister's intuition is good or that she's lucky, but she suspects there's something more to it, something a little like her own abilities and yet different.  It's one of many things she chooses not to acknowledge, because she prefers her momentary happiness, and fears seeking understanding will destroy that.

She can't read her sister's mind, and she knows there has to be a reason, but she doesn't want to look for one, doesn't want to find one.

"Can we play again?" Koishi asks, eyes big and blue, too clear and eager for someone her age.  

"Of course we can," Satori tells her, taking the deck and starting to shuffle, and her sister giggles and throws her arms around her.  

"I love you, Sis!"

Satori closes her eyes and savors the moment, the simplicity, her sister's innocent, childlike love.  It's a memory she'll need in the coming days when she feels weak and foolish and unable to do anything.  

_For Koishi._

"I love you, too," she says.

She can do it, she tells herself, she can do it for Koishi.  She can be their mother and their father at the same time, she can take care of her, pay for their groceries and their rent, she can do anything as long as she has her sister.

As she deals them both a new hand, she watches the way Koishi's eyes glance over her cards with a small, secretive smile, and she sincerely wonders which one of them is more dependent on the other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my surprise, there are people reading this. I'm trying to slowly ease out of hiatus one story at a time, and this was kind of a spur-of-the-moment idea, so I'm not sure it'll stay on a regular update schedule, but I'll do my best!

_(Eyes Open)_

"I've been meaning to ask you about the project," Satori says carefully, and immediately tenses at what she recognizes to be a misstep when Dr. Jiminez pauses, examining the cards lying face-down on the table silently.  She hears him phrasing and rephrasing an explanation in his head, a jumbled mess, _connections, consciousness,_ words, words, words.  Finally, he looks up, and he's smiling.  She almost recoils in disgust.

"Ah, yes," he says, "I suppose you're curious by now.  I've mentioned it a few times, haven't I?"  Satori doesn't say anything.  "In any case, perhaps a bit of explanation is in order.  Satori, do you know what my life's work consists of?"

_Manipulating and exploiting patients.  Unethical lobotomies.  Plagiarizing another colleague's research and publishing it with your own name._

_Murder?_

Satori says nothing, but she can't stop the puzzled look that crosses her face.  Several memories flash through his mind all at once as he asks her, the most recent blurred and monochrome, viewed through a lens of vertigo and concussion.  She sees a man, a man she does not recognize, bandages on his face and arms.  There's a disagreement, an argument, hostility and bridges burned, and time passes.  Then she's looking at a lab table, at tissue samples and manila folders, and she hears a name whispered in dread--

_Ruvik._

"My life's work," he says, bringing her back out of his memories, "is something that will change the world."

She's heard these words before.  They were a snare then, however unwittingly, a trap laid just for her.  But now, just as then, the one who says them truly believes in them.  She wonders how.  How can they do such terrible things and still feel justified?

"Imagine," he says, "If I could see the world the way you do.  Not at the same scope, of course, and not with exactly the same cognitive processes.  But imagine if I could connect myself to someone else and see their thoughts and their memories, just as you do."

She doesn't like where this is going.  

"You wouldn't like it," she assures him, but his smile is delirious.  There are dreams in his eyes.

"Oh, no, I think I would like it very much."

Satori suspects he doesn't realize the extent of her abilities or the drawbacks, the chatter at the supermarket with families pretending to be families, passive-aggressive thoughts over their passive-aggressive comments, infants sobbing in strollers needing _FOOD HUNGRY NEED FOOD_ , how miserable every moment she spends in the hospital is when patients walk by Dr. Jiminez's office, thoughts racing, psychoses purring in her ears, sexual abuse victims, hereditary illness zombies, junkies sharing their nails-on-a-chalkboard-withdrawal, and nothing is quiet, nowhere is safe, _there is no way to turn it off._

She'd rather not know the personal lives of every person she passes on the street.  She'd rather not hear her landlord's impatience or Koishi's teacher's pity or anything that will make her hate Dr. Jiminez any more than she already does, but she can't help it.  If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll filter it somehow, let himself pick and choose what he hears.

But if he doesn’t know that already, she’s not about to tell him.

"How?" she asks, and his smile widens just a bit.

"I promise that I will answer all of your questions regarding the project soon," he says, "I'd actually hoped you'd be willing to take an active part in the research.  But for now, we need to collect more data."

"How much more data?" she presses.

His smile falters.  

She backpedals.  "Sorry," she says, "Just...I was just wondering.  It's fine."

"No, no," he says slowly, eyes suddenly distant, "You're right.  Perhaps zener cards are not the most efficient method."  He nods to himself and picks up one of the cards on the table, holding it with the back facing her.  "We'll make today the last session and try something different next time."

_Something better.  Something that will yield more detailed results._

He hasn't decided what yet.  Satori's eyes meet his.

"Square," she answers.

"Excellent."  He sets it down and picks up another.  "Ah, and while I'm thinking of it--might your particular talent be apparent in family history?"  She doesn't speak.  She doesn't trust her tongue.  She hates lying, but she absolutely cannot tell the truth now.  "Thinking back, do you recall anything that makes you inclined to believe it might be hereditary?  Maybe one of your parents had excellent intuition, or something along those lines."

She wets her lips, hesitates.  "No," she says, "I don't recall anything like that."

"What about," Dr. Jiminez pauses only a moment and she hears the word before he even says it, "Your sister?"

She takes a deep breath, tries to appear as though she's thinking.  She knows she's sweating, hopes it doesn't show.  "I think I would have noticed by now," she says honestly, and it's not a complete lie.  There is something unusual about Koishi's intuition, but she doesn't know much about.  She chooses not to know much about it.

Dr. Jiminez is seemingly convinced.  "A shame," he says, "This sort of trait will be difficult to find without the aid of genetics."

Something as petty as a slight inconvenience for him shouldn't make her so happy, but it does.

There's a knock, and Satori startles to attention.  Dr. Jiminez huffs in annoyance at the interruption, calling, "Yes?" over his shoulder.  The door swings open and one of the other doctors stands there, light glinting on his glasses and hiding his eyes.  Satori hears nothing but cold professionalism and emotional detachment as he phrases and rephrases his thoughts.  There's hardly a person standing there, just a zombie like the patients.  

She wonders what he might've seen to make him like that.

"Dr. Jiminez, Leslie is having one of his fits again," he says.

Dr. Jiminez seems reluctant to move at first, but his eyes light up with an idea, and Satori cringes.  He looks at her and knows he doesn't have to say a word.

_Why don't we go see what we can do?_ he's thinking.

Like every question he asks, it's not really a question.

*

Leslie is albino, skin pasty and dotted with blemishes from uncleanliness, hair white and matted, eyes delineated by red from crying and lips marred with sores and self-inflicted bites.  Satori stays just out of the doorway at first, unwilling to come forward and be assaulted by whatever is running through his mind as he rocks back and forth on his bed with his hands over his ears mumbling something.

Dr. Jiminez sweeps forward with kindness and concern, and Satori hears the panic in his thoughts but for all the wrong reasons, research opportunities and progress rather than well-being.  

"Come in, Satori," he beckons with one hand, "You've never met Leslie before, have you?  I've been meaning to introduce the two of you, but I haven't had the chance."

She doesn't want to.  Leslie hasn’t even noticed her presence yet, still shaking, hands pressed to his ears.  

“Satori,” Dr. Jiminez says firmly, eyes fixed on her, and he doesn’t have to say a word more because he’s remembering their agreement and forcing her to do the same, a young man in a lab coat holding a deck of zener cards, the optimism in his smile blinding her from the reality that was waiting behind him, and it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know, so she can’t really blame him, can she?  It wasn’t him, it was his superiors, Dr. Jiminez and people like him with their secrets are their greater purpose, their _how are you going to support your sister without a job or an education?_ promises and their deceitful eyes.

She really doesn't want to, but she takes a deep breath and-- _For Koishi_ , she thinks desperately--a timid first step, hesitates, squeezes her eyes shut in anticipation.  

But there's nothing.

She takes another tentative step, expecting the worst, a sudden shriek of mental anguish, repetitive thoughts, terror, confusion, _I just want to go home I just want to go home I just wantogohome_ \--

But she doesn’t hear anything.

Satori's eyes sweep the room and meet Leslie's wide ones, and she's frightened and soothed at the same time, because it's just like looking into Koishi's gentle, understanding eyes, but it shouldn't be.  She doesn't know Leslie, has never met him before, and yet she feels like he's looking back at her and understanding where she comes from and how she feels.

His eyes soften.  He becomes calm, stops mumbling, stops shaking.  Slowly, he sits up straight, moving out of Dr. Jiminez's reach.  He smiles just a little.

The doctor glances between the two of them, and Satori hears his confusion.  "Who are you?" she asks, breathless, in shock.

"Who are you," he repeats, not in the tone of a question.  "Who are you."

"His name is Leslie Withers," Dr. Jiminez says, confusion turning to excitement.  "What are you experiencing right now?  Can you read his thoughts?  Read his memories?  Describe it to me."

"Describe it to me," Leslie repeats, and Satori cannot help but see her sister when she looks at his face.  

Satori knows that nothing good will come of this, but she also knows it's too late to lie; her face tells him that Leslie is special.  But she's almost as excited as he is, heart feeling a little lighter, because it's not just her and Koishi.

There's another person like them.

"Satori?" Dr. Jiminez urges, prompting Leslie to say her name a few times.  He repeats it more, and each time, he looks straight at her, through her.  She is overcome with emotion, tears welling up in her eyes.  The silence is so beautiful.

"There's nothing to describe," she whispers, "Nothing at all."

*

Dr. Jiminez practically forgets to close the door to his office when they go back, pulling files from drawers and making quick notes, too excited to stand still.  “I didn’t realize it was possible,” he thinks aloud, “But perhaps--perhaps your abilities cancel each other out?  No, I have no evidence for that, but surely it is a good starting hypothesis.”  He paces, holding out a clipboard to hurriedly jot something down.

“Yes, let’s suppose that’s the case.  My research thus far shows unique brain wave patterns in people such as Leslie and yourself, as well as sensitivity to particular patterns in others.  Perhaps this heightened sensitivity is disabled when in the proximity of another pattern.  But what purpose would this serve?”

Satori listens carefully to both what he says and doesn’t say, though there is quite a bit of overlap.   _Untested hypotheses compared to established theories, EEG data, predictions, stem_.

Stem?

The word sticks out to her for some reason, holds great meaning.

“Can Leslie do the same things I can?” she asks curiously.

“Perhaps,” Dr. Jiminez says, “While both of your abilities lie in the realms of extrasensory, the nature of Leslie’s is still unclear, largely due to the difficulty of communication.  I believe he may have access to the thoughts of people in his vicinity, however.  He has demonstrated moments of great insight into the intentions of those around him.”

A memory of Leslie struggling against orderlies is the first thing that comes to the doctor’s mind.  Satori winces as she watches a needle sink into his skin before he falls limp and is carried off.  Whatever intentions they had that warranted such a reaction make her feel a flash of anger.  She looks warily to Dr. Jiminez, who suddenly stops pacing, realizing what knowledge he’s passed on.

“Ah,” he says, “Don’t worry.  Leslie is taken care of here.  He’s often confused, however, interpreting non-threatening actions incorrectly.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s confused,” she says quietly, “You just told me he reads intentions.”

“Yes,” Dr. Jiminez says slowly, then taps his pen to his chin thoughtfully, “Yes.  You have a point.”  He shifts attention away from her unspoken question rather gracefully.  “Perhaps it is intentions rather than thoughts.  But where can we draw the line between the two?  Is there any overlap?  Is intention a conscious or unconscious construct?”

Satori starts to wonder, with a horrible, unsettling feeling, if Leslie and her sister have something in common.  It would make sense--intentions rather than thoughts, a keen intuition and good luck.  The parallels start to line themselves up, even things that shouldn’t matter, like their childish personalities, their mannerisms, their eyes, the way they look at Satori and she doesn’t have to say a thing, unconditional trust.

The urge to protect, to keep something the same, to be depended upon, becomes strong.

“I think the two of you should continue meeting,” Dr. Jiminez says, “Your effect on him is clearly positive, so I doubt there will be any objections.  As Leslie’s doctor, I know what’s best for him, after all.”  

He smiles to himself like it’s a joke, and though Satori’s stomach churns, she finds herself unable to hesitate.  Leslie should be a stranger, but he feels like one of her own.

“Okay,” she agrees, the word spilling out of her before she can stop it.


End file.
